


Christmas At Aperture, 1986

by FuchsiaMae



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Happy Holidays from Aperture Labs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaMae/pseuds/FuchsiaMae
Summary: Her first Christmas alone.(Originally posted to Tumblr 12/3/12)





	Christmas At Aperture, 1986

For the first time in thirty-five years, Caroline skipped the Aperture Christmas party.

The executive suite was far enough away that she couldn’t hear the festivities. The event rooms hummed with talk, over the accompaniment of smooth-jazz Christmas music, but that was on the other side of the facility. Here it was quiet. 

In her little living room, the lights were turned up as bright as they would go, and the artificial fireplace sat dark and ignored. There were no decorations. When did she have time to decorate lately? She hadn’t used these rooms to do more than shower and change clothes in almost a year, anyway. She certainly hadn’t lived here. Not while he was in Medical, while he needed her…

She dragged that train of thought firmly off its track. It was over now. No more sleeping on metal chairs or that awful cot beside his bed. No more doctors telling her to get some rest. No more looks of pity when they thought she couldn’t see. 

No more sick man growing sicker before her powerless eyes. 

It was over now. 

She rose from the sofa and poured herself a second glass of wine. No eggnog this year. She could almost pretend it wasn’t Christmas at all, with the lights turned up and the music off and the snow so far overhead. Miles of rock lay between her and the Michigan winter. There were no seasons underground.

Just another evening here. Another evening in this sterile, lonely place. She finished the wine in a few swallows. It was like nothing had changed.

Except that everything had changed. 

Even with an entire facility between her and the cold, she felt it creep into her heart. December never used to be this way. Winter in the Upper Peninsula was always harsh, but December meant warmth and cheer – tinsel and holly down every hallway – an oven that was always warm for the next batch of cakes or gingerbread – and for the only time all year, she could sing whenever she wanted and not feel self-conscious. At Christmastime she always had a carol on her lips, and it earned her only smiles. Especially from him. 

She bit her lip on a smile of her own and blinked away the tears pricking her eyes. Christmastime meant him. More than anything, it meant him. Her boss was a self-styled scrooge, yes – but not a very good one. He thought festivities were frivolous, but he indulged her every year. He smiled more, he laughed more, and her cookies made his mouth taste cinnamon-sweet. If she snuck up quietly, she could even catch him whistling Greensleeves when he thought he was alone. 

And then there was the Christmas party – the Aperture Nonreligious Holiday party – which was a dull affair until the drinks came out, but then it meant getting tipsy on eggnog and whiskey and kissing too hard under the mistletoe. Sneaking off sometimes for an hour of drunken pawing at each other, being followed by the scandalized eyes of coworkers when they returned disheveled and grinning. Staining lipstick on his collar. That was part of the fun.

In the years after they moved to the facility – finally living together, but more importantly living at work – they could escape the dull politeness of mingling for the cozy warmth of their rooms. She’d turn the lights down low, and in the glow of their artificial fire they’d slow-dance to romantic holiday songs. On a chill winter evening, there was no better place than his arms. 

She would give anything to be in his arms right now.

But thoughts like that did no one any good. She tried to shake them off – but couldn’t. Not quite. Rising brusquely from her seat on the sofa, she went back to the liquor cabinet, but bypassed the wine this time. Her boss had left behind a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Someone would have to finish it. 

Might as well be her. Might as well be now. Her first Christmas alone in thirty-five years – might as well celebrate. 

She poured up to the halfway point – whiskey in a wine glass because who the hell cared, anyway – and drank it straight. The first mouthful burned her throat as she swallowed. She’d never quite developed the taste for it that he had. Oh well. She raised it to her lips again and drank until she coughed. 

And then, seized by impulse, she dimmed the lights. There. That was more damn Christmassy. At the push of a button the fireplace flickered to life, and she took a seat beside it, bottle in one hand and glass in the other. She could manage one stupid holiday. Of course she could. Last year had been worse, if anything – she’d carried him on her arm through the whole Christmas party so he wouldn’t have to use his cane – and she’d got through that. Stubborn, stupid man. He hated that cane. Everyone knew he needed it, but he still didn’t want them to see. Proud to the last. Never showed anyone how badly it hurt.

Not until that last day, when he’d collapsed in her arms, and as the paramedics took him from her she thought he felt like a bag of bones –

She took a swallow straight from the bottle this time. Merry fucking Christmas, indeed. 

Maybe she needed a little music. The electric fire made no noise, and without the proper crackling of flames it was too damn quiet. She rose halfway to her feet, and one hand reached out to turn on the radio. 

“ –  _We all will be together, if the fates allo_  – ”

She slammed it off again. A bitter laugh bubbled from her lips, covering a sob. Thank you, Judy Garland, for ruining the festive mood. Wasn’t that supposed to be a happy song?

Her feet tucked under her, suddenly chilled, and she curled up beside the fire. The fake flames danced brightly, but did nothing to warm her. It was annoying. She shut it off. 

The chill was all around her now, in the cold and silent half-light, as if she’d let the winter creep in even this far underground. She drew her knees to her chest and took another sip of whiskey. It didn’t help. Her feet were cold, and her head was swimmy, and her heart ached like it would burst.

_“Someday soon, we all will be together, if the fates allow…_   
_Until then, we’ll have to muddle through… somehow…”_

Her voice cracked, and she broke. Squeezing her eyes shut wouldn’t stem the tears any longer. Huddled on the floor beside the unlit fireplace, Caroline curled in on herself and cried. 

Winter in Michigan was dark and cold. And for the first time in thirty-five years, she was alone. 


End file.
